


Anything you want, anything you need. I'll be the best that I can be

by KittieHill



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Caring John, Drunk Dancing, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mary is a bitch and John is heartbroken, Masturbation, Nightmares, Now with added Blowjob, Prostate Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Bored and can't sleep so i wrote this. I'm still a Sherlock newby so let me know if i've got anything wrong. I love comments :D </p><p>Also, The title is taken from Gordon Haskell's Whole Wide World which had a huge impact on my writing from John entering Sherlock's room. The lyrics are amazing.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bored and can't sleep so i wrote this. I'm still a Sherlock newby so let me know if i've got anything wrong. I love comments :D 
> 
> Also, The title is taken from Gordon Haskell's Whole Wide World which had a huge impact on my writing from John entering Sherlock's room. The lyrics are amazing.

It was bound to happen sooner or later John Watson thought as he picked up Sherlock from the hospital. Stupid man had rushed into a scene of chaos to apprehend a criminal in one of their cases without backup from the police or John himself. He had run into the meeting place of Russian gangsters and subsequently beaten to a pulp. He had been laid up in a hospital for 3 days whilst they observed him to ensure no lasting or internal damage was done before explaining that he could go home (truth be told he was driving them crazy, Sherlock wasn’t a good patient and the nurses soon became agitated by the strange man) but he had to be under Dr. Watson's care. Sherlock had huffed his agreement before striding out on his limping leg to the waiting taxi to take them home.

John made tea as Sherlock looked forlornly at his violin, his wrist was in a cast from the break he received as he shielded his head from the men around him. John brought over the steaming mugs and helped Sherlock to take a long gulp of the hot liquid, whilst looking over his friend worriedly. Sherlock had numerous injuries which would take extra care, to add to the broken wrist and badly twisted knee he also had broken ribs and a broken nose which ensured his amazing blue eyes were ringed with panda black bruising around his sockets. Sherlock curled himself up on the sofa pulling a blanket over his legs as he lay in silence; John could only stroke small circles on his friends back to try to relax him before offering painkillers.

Sherlock winced and John mentally berated himself. He didn’t want to tempt Sherlock into his previous habit but the injuries had to be painful, he went to the prescription bag and pulled out paracetamol, shaking two out he handed them to his friend who took them quickly reasoning that they weren’t opiates so technically he wasn’t using. He smiled at John sweetly before suggesting that he would have a bath. John nodded and rushed to run the hot water in the tub, realising that he would have to help Sherlock to strip and bathe.

Eventually the bath was ready; John checked the temperature before calling to Sherlock to see if he needed help. The younger man mumbled under his breath that he wasn’t a child and attempted to undress himself, getting as far as his trousers unbuttoned and half a shirt pulled over his head before getting stuck and almost falling over. John chuckled heartily at Sherlock’s plight before helping him, calmly he undressed his friend and helped him to stand in the bath before lowering him until the water covered his nakedness up to his chest. John remembered the cast and ran to get a carrier bag and tape to cover the bandage, glad of the distraction rather than be forced to look over his friend’s pale and perfectly proportioned body.

John had never really considered himself gay or even bisexual. He had had a few encounters with men whilst he was in the army, but he had put that down to loneliness or the need for distraction in such a hell hole. He had always been attracted to women but there was something about Sherlock. He was so unusually beautiful that he was almost ethereal. His blue eyes could bore into your soul with a single look and Sherlock’s cheekbones were so perfect that John had stared in wonder numerous times. John wasn’t gay… but maybe he was a little gay for Sherlock.

He returned to the bathroom, sitting on the toilet lid as he watched Sherlock lower himself under the water, the heat turning his normally pasty body lobster red. John watched enraptured as Sherlock came back up, his hair sticking to his face in long strands.

"John. I can’t wash my hair… not with one hand. Could you help?" Sherlock asked nervously.

John agreed and walked to kneel awkwardly at the edge of the bath, his hands pressing against the bottle of fruity smelling shampoo until a large white dollop sat in his palm. He spread the cold creamy shampoo over Sherlock’s head, massaging quickly into the scalp and ensuring the whole hair was covered in bubbles. He remembered how much he had longed to do this to his friend, have his hands tangled into the man’s hair, stroking and petting softly. John quickly brushed those thoughts aside and completed the task, telling Sherlock to go back under the water so he could rinse.

Sherlock sat for a moment, unaware of proper procedure in explaining to your best friend that you now sported an erection. He cleared his throat nervously, looking up at John and clearing his throat again,

"John… I can’t… I won’t… I mean." He stumbled, his tongue seemingly unable to work.

"Sherlock, what is it? Are you in pain?" John asked sincerely, giving his best doctor look.

"What? No, I just… I mean, it’s been a while and frankly I didn’t realise it would happen and I suppose…" Sherlock stammered.

John looked down in confusion, noticing the large erection which stood from the nest of dark curls between Sherlock’s legs. His cheeks flushed and he muttered an "Oh I see." before his doctor training kicked in. John soothed his friend to the best of his ability, bringing up his medical training and the age old comment of ‘nothing I haven’t seen before’ until Sherlock looked more relaxed. John smiled and gestured that Sherlock should rinse his hair which seemed to break the awkward tension in the room, Sherlock slid his bum down the tub and breached the water, feeling it swish over his sore eyes. John cleared the suds from Sherlock’s curls before helping him wash his dirty and frankly rather smelly body, and then climb from the tub, securing a towel around his waist tightly,

"Do you need help getting dressed?" John asked.

"No… No I think I’ll just go to bed, It’s been a long few days." Sherlock replied awkwardly.

"If you need anything, just shout." John smiled kindly,

"I will... Thank you, John. For everything." Sherlock replied with a matching and genuine smile.

The men bid each other good night and separated at the landing, Sherlock going to his room and closing the door firmly whilst John went to type up the case for the blog.

* * *

John finished his blog post and downed the last of his cold tea. He switched on the TV and watched the broadcast of Lestrade arresting the criminals, putting them into the back of the van and answering reporter’s questions as to Sherlock’s involvement. Greg had stayed quiet about the injuries and gave a brief statement before climbing back into the car and driving away. John switched the TV off again suddenly exhausted, he was about to head for bed when a crash thundered from Sherlock’s room causing John to jump in alarm. He pulled open the living room door and headed for Sherlock’s room, flinging open the door he stood wide eyed at the scene.

Sherlock was lying in bed on his stomach, his arse slightly higher in the air and his forehead resting on the pillows. An upturned lamp, a softly playing radio and glass of water spilled on to the carpet by John’s feet as he looked over at his friend.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock exhaled sharply, annoyed at his predicament "I’m playing tennis John, want a game?" Sherlock spat.

"I don’t… let’s get you on your back." John suggested, helping Sherlock back to bed with a smirk.

"John I… it’s just… I tried but my wrist… the one I use to… it’s in the cast and I can’t." Sherlock trailed off.

John finally understood the situation. He may not have been a master of deduction like Sherlock but he could figure out this puzzle. Sherlock was unable to masturbate due to his cast and due to this, was frustrated and agitated. John hid a smile before righting the lamp on the bedside table and walking back over to Sherlock’s bed. Sherlock wouldn’t make eye contact, instead he kept his eyes closed and his forehead against the pillows.

"Have you tried the other hand?" John asked.

"Of course I did! I can’t get a correct grip… that’s why I laid on my front to try to create a better angle but I slipped and hit the desk." Sherlock grumbled.

John looked at Sherlock’s perfect body, the pale cheeks of his arse shone in the hallway light and his still slightly damp curls looked messy and frizzy against his pearly skin. His hand was still wrapped around his cock which Sherlock had attempted to thrust into rather than stroke himself, all to no avail.

"John… I wouldn’t normally ask, but it hurts." Sherlock said coyly.

John’s heart fluttered in his chest, he had to be dreaming. No way was this real. This wasn’t reality, he was in a coma or he had died in his chair and gone to heaven…

"John?" Sherlock asked nervously.

John cleared his throat and walked closer to the bed, sitting on the edge.

"Are you sure?" he asked, edging his hand closer to the soft skin he desperately wanted to touch. Sherlock nodded, never opening his eyes.

John stroked Sherlock’s shoulders softly and told him to lie on his back, which Sherlock did quickly. His large and extremely erect cock bounced against his stomach leaving a trail of moisture which glistened in the light. Johns own cock reacted and he exhaled shakily before grabbing some of Sherlock’s hand cream from the bedside table and squirting it onto his hands, rubbing them together quickly to warm the liquid.

John started at Sherlock’s balls, feeling them hot and heavy under his fingers. He massaged and stroked them softly, checking for lumps professionally whilst doing so. Sherlock choked out a laugh,

"I'm very aware of self-examination techniques." Sherlock grinned, watching as John began to blush.

John moved on quickly to the uncut shaft. His skin was pale except the tip which was pink, a bead of wetness forming and running down the underside of his cock. John stroked the cream into the skin, feeling the skin becoming slippy and more pliable as he fondled and caressed the hardness. His fingers pulled back the tight foreskin more, exposing the full head and glans which shuddered each time Sherlock took a breath.‘Is… is this okay?’ John asked, his voice gruff with lust,

"Is… is this okay?" John asked, his voice gruff with lust.

Sherlock nodded, his eyes closed serenely whilst his teeth worried his lower lip.

John continued his exploration, he gripped the tip tightly, tugging it whilst his other hand stroked along the tight skin of Sherlock’s balls. He heard the younger man hiss and sigh above him and watched as another drop of wetness made its way down the pink shaft.

"Oh John." Sherlock sighed, his good hand gripping the bedding beneath him.

"Do you trust me?" John asked softly, watching as Sherlock nodded quickly.

John pressed more lotion into his hand, warming it again before slicking it over Sherlock’s cock with one hand whilst the other trailed down the warm crease of Sherlock’s arse. John stopped at the puckered ring of muscle watching Sherlock’s face crinkle with new sensations. John slowly started to insert his finger inside his friend, a knuckle at a time, watching Sherlock’s face for pain but finding none. He eventually had a finger inside the virgin hole which gripped him tight and caused Johns cock to twitch inside his own pants which seemed to grow tighter with every second. John used his medical knowledge to find the prostate, the tip of his finger brushing the small spot causing Sherlock to jump and groan deeply, his eyes opening and looking at his friend.

"Relax." John soothed, his other hand gripping Sherlock’s cock tightly, starting a steady rhythm up and down which caused Sherlock’s head to fall back against the pillow and spread his legs wider.

John pressed the spot again, sweeping his finger in circles over the sensitive spot, listening to the growing groans and whimpers escaping Sherlock’s sweet lips. John’s own cock was leaking profusely now, he could feel the precum soaking into the material of his pants but he wanted to send Sherlock over the edge, he wanted to watch Sherlock come undone on his finger.

He slowly removed his finger and pushed two inside, stretching the hole around his thick digits, wishing he had proper lubricant rather than making do with lotion but he figured anything was better than nothing. John stroked and rubbed the prostate gently, massaging and milking Sherlock until the younger man was writhing beneath him on the bed, sweat covering his entire body as he moved in seductive shapes. John wanted to fuck him right then and there but realised that he would need to take it slower, it wasn’t about him at the moment; it was all to quench Sherlock’s needs.

Sherlock whimpered and bucked against Johns digits, his hips flicking roughly as the urge to come got closer, his orgasms were normally a quick and simple affair, over in minutes to allow him to concentrate on other things but this orgasm was different, he needed it with every fibre of his being,

"John please." Sherlock choked, desperation evident in his voice.

John gave in to Sherlock’s pleas. Speeding up the grip around Sherlock’s cock, John watched as the younger man arched his back from the bed, his arse gripping John’s fingers tight as he began to shout and moan loudly, his fingers ripping a hole in his bedding with the force of the grip. John watched enraptured as Sherlock began to unload his come, hot strings shot from his cock over his stomach and chest, endless ropes burst from Sherlock’s insides as John continued stroking his prostate, listening to the sexually explicit whimpers of his friend as he had the most intense orgasm of his life. John slowed his hand and stopped stroking inside Sherlock, pulling his fingers slowly out of Sherlock’s tight hole, his other hand ensuring all of the come was cooling on Sherlock’s skin.

Sherlock lay lifeless on his bed. This sensation was better than heroin and he was somewhat annoyed that nobody had told him how amazing sex could feel. His chest heaved with deep breaths as he slowly became sentient again, his wrist wiping the sweat from his brow before covering his eyes.

"Fuck, John." Sherlock whispered.

John didn’t reply, he was already stood up and in the doorway. He walked to the bathroom and ran the hot water, dipping a towel into the water and getting it damp before taking it back into Sherlock’s room and cleaning up the still dazzled detective.

"Fuck John." Sherlock repeated,

"Yeh, you said that." John laughed.

"Fuck John." Sherlock laughed in reply.

"If you say it one more time, I might take you up on the offer." John warned with a smile.

Sherlock moved his arm from his eyes, his gaze fixed straight onto the doctor as he said deeply "Fuck John."

John was naked within seconds and lying beside his favourite sociopath.


	2. Hand in hand. Skin to skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with this chapter, I think i've made myself nervous by reading some amazing Sherlock fanfic's so now i feel like mine aren't as good! I will attempt to write a full sex scene once i get inspired.

John lay with his back against the headboard. Sherlock covered his front with his long and lean frame, his back rubbing against Johns aching erection. Sherlock’s head was turned to one side, kissing John softly and inexpertly; John hadn’t realised that Sherlock was a complete novice at all of the intimate gestures and found his messy technique endearing and cute. He slowly pulled his lips away, helping Sherlock to understand the rhythm which he tried to create, his tongue gently lapping Sherlock’s until the younger man quickly learned. John smiled as Sherlock became bolder and sucked John’s bottom lip into his own, sucking and chewing onto the skin causing John’s cock to bounce between their bodies. John trailed his fingers around Sherlock’s pale body, touching every part of the detective that he could, exploring Sherlock to understand what he liked, where he was most sensitive whilst being extremely careful not to touch the cuts and bruises which covered Sherlock’s angular frame.

John rubbed his hands over Sherlock’s body, his fingers pinching and twisting Sherlock’s erect nipples until he felt the younger man hiss and arch in pleasure, his big blue eyes opening and gazing into Johns own. John continued his journey down to Sherlock’s navel, following the dark trail of hair to the nest which tangled between his legs, his erection already standing up and leaking despite his earlier intense orgasm. John teased Sherlock mercilessly; watching as Sherlock whimpered and pressed himself against John’s body as he breathed deeply, desperate for the amazing friction of John’s talented fingers. Sherlock twisted his good arm around to fit between their bodies, grabbing John’s hardness in his fist.

Sherlock is surprised at John’s size; he had seen him hard from afar but now, with his hand wrapped around the shaft he is shocked at the girth. John’s tip touches his navel leaving a wet smear each time Sherlock moves it, the shaft is thicker than any Sherlock has seen outside of porn (which leaves his own, his brothers and a boy from college). John’s mushroom head peeked out of the tight foreskin which dripped moisture down his skin with every tug.

The two men continued to kiss, their hands stroking at one another’s cocks slowly, building an excruciatingly slow rhythm.

‘John, are you going to fuck me?’ Sherlock asked with a hint of nervousness

‘Oh god Sherlock. I want to’ John replied dreamily, swallowing in an attempt to moisten his dry mouth

‘I do too’ Sherlock whispered in reply

‘I can’t… your injuries… I don’t want to hurt you’ John said with a gasp as Sherlock flicked his wrist again, hitting the sensitive spot of his frenulum

Sherlock returned the gasp as John moved his thumb over the tip of Sherlock’s cock, slightly pushing his nail inside the slit which made the younger man wince and groan at the same time.

‘Let’s slowly work up’ John moaned deeply as Sherlock brought him closer to orgasm with his talented fingers, Sherlock felt a splash of John’s precum on his skin which caused a shiver of excitement to travel through his nerves

‘I’m… _oh god John_ … I’m pretty worked up already’ Sherlock whined, his hips thrusting into Johns tight fist, fucking it quickly

‘Oh Sherlock, me too, I can’t believe I have you’ John whispered, his teeth digging into the soft flesh of Sherlock’s neck and sucking hard, sure to bruise in the morning.

‘You have me… oh god John you have me and I have you… my John’ Sherlock moaned feeling the bite send pain through his body

The two men whimpered and kissed as their orgasms approached, swallowing one others moans and storing the sounds for future. Desperate hip jerks and groans were all the men could comprehend; the chatter which constantly filled Sherlock’s head was silent as his climax built. John’s insecurities, his need for love and compassion and the terrible experiences in his life dissolved in the hands of his flatmate. Their eyes met and the men realised that they had been in love for a long time, their lips brushing a final time as their orgasms hit. Sherlock covering his stomach in creamy cum whilst John’s spread over his own hairy stomach and over Sherlock’s back; creating a slippery sheen over the young man’s skin.

The pair lay panting, silent in the bedroom where only the soft jazz radio station played. John stroked Sherlock’s dark and damp curls as they both came down from their endorphin highs before grabbing at the now cold towel from the floor and cleaning them both. The men climbed under the covers in Sherlock’s bed, naked and finally together; John lay on his side and allowed Sherlock to wrap himself around his back, Sherlock nuzzled into John’s neck and down his shoulder blades until he reached the large scar which changed the soldier’s life. Sherlock placed chaste kisses on the shiny white skin and whispered ‘my sweet brave John’ under his breath as his long fingers grabbed for John’s own, entwining them together as they fell into a contented sleep. Hand in hand. Skin to skin. Forever Holmes and Watson.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick chapter to fill time whilst i write the full sex scene. Shouldn't be too much longer! 
> 
> Comments welcomed, Work isn't beta'd so it may be rubbish. Let me know if i've made any mistakes!

3 weeks later:

Sherlock slammed the flat door and stormed up the stairs, throwing his scarf and coat over the sofa he paced across the living room floor mumbling to himself, his fingers pulling and teasing at his hair as he attempted to figure out the puzzle

John followed behind; they had just been for a meeting with The Yard and Sherlock had had more painful comments regarding his unusual and complex behaviour. John had stood and bit his tongue as Sally berated Sherlock and called him ‘freak’ but John couldn’t step in and tell her to back off, the need to keep his new found relationship with Sherlock quiet was more important than defending Sherlock’s feelings at that moment. He didn’t want to spoil anything.

Sherlock paced continuously, back and forth between the sofa and the fireplace. John watched in awe as Sherlock’s lips created wonderful shapes as he muttered, his eyes aflame with passion and the logical magic which he created in his mind. John could feel the stirrings of an erection building but knew that it wouldn’t be any good; Sherlock was too wired to relax or sleep.

‘I don’t understand… I don’t understand!’ Sherlock suddenly shouted, causing John to jump from his explicit thoughts of what he wanted to do to Sherlock in nothing but his silly deerstalker hat

‘Ok… piece it together. What are we missing?’ John soothed, his hand lingering on Sherlock’s shoulder only to be swatted away by the younger man

Sherlock stood looking over at the various pieces of paper which filled the back wall of the front room

‘Oh….OH!’ Sherlock exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he wheeled around to grab John’s ears and plant a kiss on the doctors forehead

‘wh-what did I say?’ John asked in confusion as Sherlock grabbed his jacket and rushed to the front door

‘It’s so obvious now, so obvious! It’s not what’s in front of me, it’s what’s missing!’ Sherlock said and rushed out to grab a cab, leaving John standing and blinking in bewilderment

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sherlock arrived home an hour later; his eyes looked tired and his skin slightly pale. John looked up from the laptop to see Sherlock collapse bonelessly onto the sofa

‘Sorted it then?’ John asked with a smile

‘Yes, and once I realised what I missed it was extremely boring’ the detective sighed

‘You should eat’ John suggested, connecting to the takeaway website they often used ‘Thai?’

Sherlock rolled his eyes and attempted to do his typical steeple pose but unable to get his fingers close enough due to the bloody cast which still covered the broken wrist. He was glad the black eyes had vanished though, he had had to stay in the house until the swelling went down in case the papers photographed him… he didn’t want Mycroft paying a visit.

‘Come on Sherlock, eat something and I’ll give you a surprise’ John teased

Sherlock’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowing at his best friend _(new lover? Maybe… they hadn’t really discussed their relationship change but John was often naked in his bed on a nightly basis now although never progressing further than hot passionate kisses and slow teasing hand jobs)_

‘A surprise?’ Sherlock asked

John nodded; not lifting his head from the screen in case Sherlock saw his smile

Sherlock jumped from the sofa and sat opposite the older man, his pale eyes looking into Johns dark ones, ‘You haven’t bought anything new, you’re not wearing new underwear, you haven’t spoken to Lestrade about time off so it’s not a holiday… hmmm’ Sherlock thought, his eyes burning into John

‘Stop deducing me, you’ll never get it’ John smiled and ordered their food watching as Sherlock cast furtive glances over at him

The food arrived quickly and the two men sat on the floor, Indian style as they shared the food between them. Sherlock found he was famished and tried to remember when he last ate something… _Wednesday? It was now Friday but he couldn’t be sure._ He ate quickly, enjoying the hot feeling spreading into his empty stomach which he washed down with a nice wine he had liberated from Mrs Hudson’s cupboard. The two men talked easily, their conversation flowing as they ate together for the first time in a while

‘How does your wrist feel?’ John asked taking Sherlock’s arm and stroking his thumb over the heavy cast

‘Annoying. I can’t run without feeling lopsided and off balance’ Sherlock complained, looking at the cast with knitted eyebrows

‘It’s coming off in another few weeks. Won’t be long. How are the ribs?’

Sherlock nodded and took another deep gulp of the wine, his mind feeling slightly buzzed with the alcohol flowing through his system. John seemed happy with that reply and kept his fingers stroking over Sherlock’s hand softly

‘John… are you my boyfriend?’ Sherlock asked forcefully causing John to choke on his wine slightly

‘I-I don’t know… do you want me to be?’ John replied with a slight blush

Sherlock nodded bashfully, looking over at the stunningly attractive man opposite him.

‘Well then, yes I probably am’ John smiled and finished his glass ‘I need a shower, your surprise will come later’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sherlock sat on his bed; he had stripped to his pants and seated himself on top of the covers, his back against the headboard as he listened to the water running. His mind wandered as he imagined John naked and wet, maybe he used the foam shower gel which was on the side, his hand rubbing over the slightly hairy body and leaving a trail of suds down his body until he reached his already erect cock. Maybe John would stroke himself tonight and cum with a choked whisper before washing away the evidence and returning to his own bed. Sherlock hoped not.

John stood in the doorway wrapped in a white towel, the bright white a contrast to his darker skin which made Sherlock stare enraptured. John’s hair was still damp and it stuck to his head in such a way that it made Sherlock chuckle

‘Shut up Holmes’ John laughed pulling his towel off and flicking it at Sherlock, trying to whip him with it like he had done to kids at school. Sherlock laughed harder and brought his hand out to reach for John which the older man gratefully took; climbing to sit beside his friend

‘What’s my surprise?’ Sherlock asked impatiently

John smiled and placed small kisses on Sherlock’s neck, finding the exact spot which made sparks explode behind Sherlock’s eyes and his skin prickle in Goosebumps. John nuzzled down Sherlock’s neck and throat, nipping and sucking at the bobbing Adams apple before moving to Sherlock’s sensitive collarbone. His hands stroked through the younger man’s hair and moved down to rub over the soft and small body of his lover, surprised at how thin Sherlock had become and how many of his ribs he could feel through the skin.

John shook the thought away and continued his journey, stopping at Sherlock’s extremely sensitive nipples, he sucked and licked the erect buds, his fingers teasing the opposite one as he moved between them listening to Sherlock gasping above him as his long musicians fingers tightened in John’s damp hair. John glanced up, watching Sherlock swallow deeply, his eyes closed tightly as he concentrated on the feelings spreading through his body. John meanwhile reached the man’s flat stomach, kissing and licking the slightly hairy navel then following the trail down to the much darker and copious bush of dark hair which hid under the fabric of Sherlock’s pants

‘These… well these will have to go’ John said with a cheeky smile, his fingers gripping the edges of the material before pulling them down Sherlock’s seemingly endless legs

Sherlock whined as the cold air touched his extremely erect cock, the moisture which had already formed on the top felt freezing in his cold bedroom but he knew John would warm it up with his hand quickly enough. Sherlock closed his eyes and let his head drop back onto the bedframe, his hands resting softly at his sides

John looked at the serene look on Sherlock’s face and smiled, he slowly and cautiously moved his head lower, opening his lips and taking the head of Sherlock’s cock inside his warm mouth.

Sherlock’s eyes flew open and looked down at his mate; his mind whirred at the new sensation and he felt like he was floating in mid-air as John’s tongue traced around the glans of his tip, licking away the moisture and swallowing it down quickly. _Not as bad as I expected_ John thought as he licked away the earthy taste of Sherlock, a mixture of sweet and spice and so perfectly Sherlock. The younger man hissed and whimpered above him and John took Sherlock’s hand in his before placing it on the top of his head

‘Your surprise’ John groaned around the tip of Sherlock causing the Detective to growl low in his throat at the vibrations travelling down his shaft

‘John… god’ He stammered, his fingers tangling in Johns mane

The doctor worked quickly, licking and sucking as he had ‘researched’ during the afternoon with hours of pornography whilst Sherlock was out with Lestrade. John’s fingers tightened in a circle around the shaft and he stroked in a steady rhythm as his lips sucked and licked at the tip, his tongue probing at the slit in the head, listening to Sherlock’s heady moans

‘J-John… god’

John pulled away for a moment, pressing a finger inside his mouth to coat it with spit before pushing Sherlock’s cock back inside the warmth of his mouth. His finger trailed over Sherlock’s arsehole before slowly pressing inside a knuckle at a time, listening to the younger man whimper and pant in bliss as he fully sheathed a finger inside him. He stroked circles over Sherlock’s prostate tasting his precum become bitterer as he milked his lover from the inside as his other hand stroked and sucked at his cock. Sherlock’s moans were louder, more frenzied as he tightened his grip on Johns hair, pulling the man further onto his cock until he gagged and pulled away

‘Sorry’ Sherlock mumbled, his mind incoherent with pleasure

John didn’t mind, he continued attempting to fit more of Sherlock’s substantial cock inside his mouth as his finger probed the small spot of pleasure. Sherlock arched from the bed, his eyes rolling in the back of his head as he groaned low and choked out a warning of his impending climax

John stayed where he was, sucking and sweeping his finger until he felt Sherlock’s cock become harder and then explode in his mouth with long hot spurts of cum, covering his tongue and lips with bitter salty warmth which John did his best to swallow. He gently pulled his finger from Sherlock’s inside and stroked the younger man’s thighs as Sherlock came down from his orgasm, panting heavily and sweating. John pulled his lips away and wiped them with the back of his hand, noticing how some of the cum had dripped onto his chin and over the stubble he hadn’t shaved that morning. He pressed the fingers into his lips licking the remaining moisture from his lips before climbing up Sherlock’s body and lying his head on the detectives chest, listening to the happy thrum of his heartbeat

‘That was – amazing’ Sherlock stuttered, his breathing still heavy

John smiled and stroked his fingers over the pale skin of his boyfriend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken a while, got some serious Sher-lock and only just managed to get this finished. The last chapter is a sad one... i apologise about that. Obviously we know what happens after the fall but i've stopped it there. 
> 
> Oh, and the Song in this one is Blondie - Atomic because when i heard it, it just seemed the perfect song for Sherlock's hair to bounce to

6 weeks later:

The music was too loud, the beer was too expensive and Sherlock was too involved with looking for the fraudster who was hiding out somewhere in the club. The fact that it was a gay bar also made John uncomfortable but only because it was too crowded; men brushed against him and bumped his shoulder painfully. John looked over at Sherlock angrily and watched the younger man talk excitedly with the bar staff before meeting John’s eyes and motioning to a quieter corner.

‘He left. Should be back later though, I’ll text Lestrade’ Sherlock said with a smile, taking his phone from his pocket and texting without looking at the keys ‘another drink?’

One drink led to another, and another until eventually the men turned to shots of green fluid which John couldn’t even identify. The pair counted to three then threw their heads back to drink the burning alcohol, John grimaced and Sherlock looked like he might actually throw up but instead used his fingers to cover his lips, moving the wetness along the red skin until it shone in the disco lights above them. John couldn’t take his eyes away from the unwittingly erotic gesture, his body craving Sherlock’s touch again despite only being driven to orgasm by Sherlock’s talented fingers before they left the house. Sherlock’s normally bright eyes looked dazed and he smiled and laughed more than John had ever seen. It was unbelievably sexy

‘I love this song!’ Sherlock shouted, his hands flying into the air as he stumbled from the bar onto the dance floor, waving over at John until the older man chuckled and walked over. John realised it wouldn’t be a good idea to deny Sherlock the opportunity to dance but also realised that he was as graceful as a cow on ice, he wrapped his arms around the tall man’s shoulders as Sherlock bounced around to the beginnings of Blondie’s Atomic, his curls swaying and bouncing with each graceful movement

John laughed and almost fell as he watched his lover letting himself go and embracing the music; he looked at the younger man and shouted ‘I didn’t expect you to like this!’

Sherlock’s eyes sparkled with happiness and the disco lights as he replied ‘Why not?! It’s a classic’ before pointing his fingers at John and singing along to the music

_Ooooh your hair is beautiful_

_Ah tonight,_

_Atomic_

John’s stomach and heart flipped as he watched Sherlock, he was so beautiful, so graceful, like a heavenly creature… He had to have him entirely.

John grabbed Sherlock’s cheeks and pulled him in for a messy kiss, their tongues crashing against one another as Debbie Harry sang around them. Their crotches lined up as they moved together, their blossoming erections rutting against one another as the drunken haze washed over them, John tangled his fingers into Sherlock’s hair pulling him down as Sherlock grabbed John’s denim arse tightly. Unknown to the men they had created quite a crowd with a lot of the patrons gathering to watch the loving couple make out in the centre of the dance floor. The instrumental part of the song over as Debbie’s voice kicked back in

_Tonight, make it magnificent_

_Tonight_

_Make me tonight_

The two men snogged relentlessly, tasting the lingering alcohol mixtures on their tongues. They pulled away for air and realised they had an audience

‘Home?’ Sherlock asked quizzically

‘Definitely’ John agreed before grabbing Sherlock’s arm, entwining their fingers and rushing down the stairs and out of the door.

The two men made it out of the door together, giggling like school children into the cold London air, Sherlock attempted to hail a taxi and almost fell onto the floor which made John laugh harder until he felt sick and his eyes ran with tears

Sherlock turned towards his friend, a look of hunger crossing his pale eyes before he grabbed the older man and pushed him against the pub wall and kissing him roughly, his hands threading into Johns hair to pull back his head and place nips and kisses along the soft skin of his neck. The pair ground their cocks into one another, whimpering and groaning deeply with the sensations

‘Alright lads come on, time to go home’ the bouncer smiled shooing them away from the building and unfortunately straight into the path of Lestrade

‘Oh Jesus… have you two been…? Oh I don’t want to know’ Lestrade said with a slight wince

‘Ah Gregory! I knew you would arrive shoon! The great Sherlock Holmes doesh it again!’ The detective slurred with a smile, grabbing Johns arse tightly

‘Yeh yeh, you’re a genius Sherlock. Go to bed’ Lestrade smiled before hailing a taxi and paying the fare and a large tip

‘Yesh, I will do that. Wont we John? We’ll just go schtrait to bed’ Sherlock attempted with a sultry wink but managing somehow to look simple much to the delight of John who roared with laughter once more

Lestrade physically shuddered as he slammed the door behind the pair, making a mental note to have a squad car park outside Baker Street at 7am with its siren blaring.

##############

The ride back to the house seemed endless, Sherlock kissed and nipped along Johns throat who whispered and moaned quietly in case the cabbie got annoyed and threw them out. He really didn’t want to walk home in this state. His fingers rubbed small circles into Sherlock’s thigh and he moved his hands each time Sherlock moved them to cup his now extremely hard cock; they reached the house and climbed out gracelessly before fighting with the lock to open the flat

‘Fuckin thing… it hates me John!’ Sherlock pouted and laughed moving aside for John to attempt

The pair entered the flat and closed the door, Sherlock grabbed John and pushed him against the frame for another deep and passionate kiss, their tongues dancing with one another

‘I want you to fuck me John. I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow’ Sherlock growled into John’s ear

‘Oh Christ Sherlock’ John replied, his cock twitching in his jeans

‘Let’s go’ Sherlock said, grabbing John’s hand and running up the stairs two at a time, they kissed as they walked to Sherlock’s room and began stripping at the edge of the bed, their clothes falling into puddles around their feet as they undressed quickly and shamelessly

‘I don’t… I don’t think I can go all the way tonight’ John said with a confidence he didn’t feel. He was desperate to sheathe himself inside Sherlock but he reasoned that the level of alcohol in the blood would negate any consent given and he certainly didn’t want to hurt Sherlock or confuse him. He watched as Sherlock looked over and nodded sadly seemingly able to deduce his feelings on the matter before climbing into bed

‘I still… If it’s okay… I’d like to touch you’ Sherlock said in a whispered voice, his teeth worrying his bottom lip

‘Oh fuck yes’ John replied straddling Sherlock’s hips carefully so not to hurt the smaller man

‘I want to taste you John’ Sherlock said seductively

John could only nod his head, his bum and strong thighs rubbing against Sherlock’s soft skin. The pair had only recently started exploring oral sex with one another, John had at least some experience with women but Sherlock was a complete innocent but John was happy to find that the young man was a genius at everything he did. He had found the spots which made John squirm and whimper beneath him.

John shuffled further up the lithe body until his tip was millimetres away from those pink cupid bow lips, Sherlock extended his tongue and tasted the musky precum which had formed at Johns tip, his tongue rubbing the sensitive glans underneath the foreskin, listening to John gasp and groan above him. Sherlock grabbed the older man’s arse and brought his hips closer to his lips as Sherlock took more of John inside his hot and waiting mouth, his tongue swirling everywhere it could touch. John groaned and whined as Sherlock maintained eye contact, his fingers kneading John’s buttocks as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder

‘I thought… _fuck_ … you’d never done this before’ John spluttered, his chest heaving with desperate breaths

‘I haven’t’ Sherlock spoke around John’s shaft ‘Is it good?’

John could only nod as another moan was ripped from his lips by Sherlock’s red lips. The taller man grabbed John and swapped their position so John was lying on his back as Sherlock kissed down his stomach and chest before taking John’s cock inside his lips again, he bobbed his head, constantly making eye contact as John got closer to his climax

‘S-Sherlock… gunna… cum’ John whimpered, his back arching, pushing his cock deeper into Sherlock’s waiting mouth

Sherlock pulled his head away as he gagged, momentarily worried about the amount of alcohol he had drank and then retching but thankfully the nausea passed quickly. His fingers stroked and tugged at the skin until John came with Sherlock’s name on his lips as ropes of cum coated his stomach and Sherlock’s fingers

John lay silent; his body buzzed and he could feel himself trembling with the force of his orgasm. Sherlock had kissed him gently and passionately before lying himself down beside John

‘I’ll… return the favour… just a minute’ John smiled, his voice low and deep with exhaustion

‘Sleep John, I’m not going anywhere’ Sherlock soothed, his fingers stroking John’s serene face until the pair fell asleep

##########################################

‘Fucks sakes’

Sherlock cracked open an eye and looked around the far too bright bedroom, John was still beside him but Sherlock could feel tension in his tone

‘You ok?’ Sherlock asked without opening his eyes further

‘I was just remembering being moved on by a bouncer at a gay bar before bumping into our favourite inspector’ John said with a dry chuckle

‘Oh… yes… I forgot about that’ Sherlock replied with a smile ‘Do you think he’ll mention it?’

John snorted a laugh and looked at the much paler than usual Sherlock ‘Yes, I think he will. I imagine we will be the talk of the Yard’

‘Let them talk John. I’m not embarrassed’ Sherlock said confidently before covering his head with his hands ‘I think I’m having an aneurism’

‘That my love is a hangover. I’ll shout Mrs Hudson, we need a breakfast’

John watched Sherlock intently from his seat on Mrs Hudson’s dining table. Sherlock was lying prone on the cold tiles of the Kitchen floor, his forehead resting against the fridge.

‘John, How long does this last? Why do people do this on a regular basis? I feel like I’m dying’

John handed him another glass of Orange juice and told him to drink it which had turned Sherlock a slightly green tinge before he sat up and downed the cold fluid. John had already forced him to eat a slice of toast and drink alca-seltzer

Mrs Hudson busied around the house ignoring the two men in her kitchen, she clucked and fussed at Sherlock at first but seemingly became bored with his neediness and left him to the Doctor. Sherlock was glad to get rid of her as her shrill voice went right through his hung-over brain.

‘Can we go back to bed yet?’ Sherlock asked with a pout, his pink lips looking divine on his pale skin.

‘come on then’ John smiled and took him by the hand leading him upstairs much to the amusement of Mrs Hudson who shouted her plans to be out for the remainder of the day after them.

#################################

A few hours later the hangover had mostly vanished thanks to John’s constant insistence of drinking lots and napping. The two men had dozed and cuddled together, John lay on his back with Sherlock resting his head against his shoulder, his body nestled into John’s side as they relaxed naked in the covers of Sherlock’s huge bed. John stroked his fingers down Sherlock’s almost hairless chest, his fingers tracing over the pebbled nipples which grew erect with his ministrations, Sherlock shifted to press his erection into the side of John’s thigh, thrusting gently to create friction

‘Sherlock?’ John asked

‘Hm?’ was the reply from Sherlock who continued stroking himself against the hairy skin of John’s leg

‘Do you think…? I mean… are you ready to go the whole way?’ John asked with a blush creeping over his cheeks

Sherlock cleared his throat, his hips stopping their movements for a split second before continuing. He nodded against John’s shoulder and lifted his head for a soft kiss which was quickly deepened by John, his tongue sweeping into Sherlock’s mouth whilst his fingers twirled the soft dark curls on Sherlock’s temple.

‘I love you so much’ John muttered between kisses, his heartbeat racing as though he was sprinting through London in hot pursuit of a baddie

‘I… I love you too’ Sherlock smiled against John’s lips, his hands stroking the goose bumped flesh of John’s arms and chest

John lifted himself onto his hands and knees, crawling over Sherlock’s thin body until his front covered Sherlock’s. The men continued kissing before John pulled out the tube of lube in their bedside table and smeared the cold gel over his fingers, the pair repositioned themselves so Sherlock could spread his legs comfortably before John slowly began pressing into the tight ring of muscle, listening to Sherlock’s whimpers and groans as his lover skimmed over the special spot inside him. John pulled out slightly, creating a sensual rhythm as he added a second and then third finger, scissoring and stretching the virgin tightness which gripped his fingers

‘Breathe Sherlock, just relax’ John soothed, his other slippy hand stroking the younger man’s cock in time with his shallow internal thrusts

Sherlock huffed and panted as he attempted to calm his screaming nerves, the feelings running through his body so unlike anything else he had known. To be taken by somebody he cared about and loved for the first time was terrifying and he bit his lower lip as he felt John remove his hand from his cock and begin smearing lube over his own hardness

John removed his fingers slowly before placing his blunt tip at the centre of Sherlock’s tightness; he breathed deeply and looked down at the younger man beneath him

‘Are you sure?’ John asked sweetly, leaning forward to place a kiss on Sherlock’s flat stomach

Sherlock nodded quickly, his eyes closing as he felt the stretch of John’s erection inside him for the first time ‘Sherlock, open your eyes’ John whispered as he stayed still to allow Sherlock to become used to the sensations. Sherlock slowly lifted his lids and met the gaze of his lover as the pair finally cemented their relationship, John gasped at the surreal eroticism of the situation and his cock threatened to burst just from the way Sherlock looked so lovingly at him as though the older man was the only good thing in the world. John inserted himself inch by inch until he was fully sheathed, his hips pressed against Sherlock’s clammy skin as Sherlock gripped the bedding and moaned loudly

‘Move… please John move’ Sherlock whimpered

John gladly complied, his hips creating long deep strokes which massaged his shaft inside Sherlock. Sherlock was groaning and grunting louder than John had ever heard before, the older man adjusted himself so he could kiss his Detective and tangle his hands in his hair

‘You’re mine’ John said deeply, his lips kissing down the white skin of Sherlock’s neck and throat until he licked the drop of sweat which had collected in the hollow of the man’s throat

‘Yes John…. Yes’ Sherlock moaned, his hips moving alongside Johns to bring them closer to climax, his lips meeting John’s in a desperate kiss

The two men came in unison, Sherlock’s almost untouched cock twitching madly with rope after rope of hot steamy cum which coated their stomachs. John exploded deep inside his lover giving Sherlock the new sensation of warmth inside his belly,

The two men lay shaking and smiling in the half light of sunset, Sherlock’s long fingers framing each side of Johns face as they kissed deeply and passionately whilst John slowly removed himself from inside Sherlock carefully, his softening prick leaving drips of cum on his thighs as he flopped onto his back beside his lover. Sherlock lay for a moment, revelling in the new sensation of cum dripping from his used hole onto the bedding beneath, his fingers moving to stroke his tender skin and look at the evidence himself.

John tutted and grabbed Sherlock’s cheek for a quick peck before he pulled the cover back over them to keep warm; The two men lay in comfortable silence as they fell into a contented sleep happy in the knowledge that they had found their soul mate.


	5. The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sob Sniffle* I was upset and decided to challenge myself to writing a really soppy and heartbreaking scene... hope i've done it.

It was the thud. The deep and horrible thud of body onto ground which taunted John as he attempted to sleep; he had looked deep into Sherlock’s eyes and saw nothing, he had felt the pulse and felt nothing but the thud? The thud made him feel and see everything. His stomach had lurched and his head had spun as the doctors pulled him away from his flatmates _and lovers_ body

‘I can’t leave him. He’ll be alone. I don’t want him to be alone’ John had cried as the doctors pulled him away from the scene

The crowd had attempted to soothe him, the paramedics had wrapped the orange blanket around his shoulders which immediately reminded him of their first case together… the night he saved Sherlock’s life _but he couldn’t save him today he couldn’t even get close to him_. John sobbed deeply as the paramedic stroked his shoulder softly,

‘He’s alone in the dark and he’ll get cold’ John whispered ‘he needs his scarf. I’ll get his scarf’

The paramedic’s eyes had filled with tears as she turned away, leaving him muttering to himself about calling Mycroft and Lestrade… _Oh god Mrs Hudson! She’ll need to know too… and Angelo should know_. John rested his head in his hands and sobbed until a male paramedic joined him on the gurney and injected him with something which calmed him and made him want to sleep… This was the first time he would dream of the thud.

Baker Street was deserted; Speedys was closed for the day as the staff attended Sherlock’s funeral and subsequent wake. John stood outside the black door, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he looked at the wood which had been touched by Sherlock’s fingers a thousand times. He traced his own fingers over the brass knocker before inserting his key and walking inside,

The smell of his home hit him first, that warm and familiar scent of Sherlock, Mrs Hudson’s baking and the slight tang of chemicals shrouded John in memories. The first night they had ran home, giggling and smiling as they chased the taxi driver, the night they had been to the club and come home to passionately kiss against the door… everything rushed back at John and he choked back a sob of utter dismay,

He walked slowly up to the sitting room knowing that he needed to collect some things from there. The sight of Sherlock’s abandoned Violin hurt Johns stomach and he looked at the sofa which was still draped with Sherlock’s dressing gown. John’s knees buckled as he flopped sobbing to the floor, burying his face in the soft material and breathing in Sherlock’s scent. He would have given anything to have his lover back at that moment; he would have traded his own life for Sherlock’s.

The sobbing and crying abated after a few moments with the familiar numbness settling into his lower stomach once more. John wiped his tear stained cheeks and stood, walking through to his bedroom where the pair had slept together so many times, their naked bodies tucked up against one another both in passion and comfort. John remembered the tickle of Sherlock’s curls on his chest as the young man placed his head over John’s heart and listened to the relaxing thrum of his pulse, John would stroke his fingers up and down Sherlock’s thin body until he heard the tell-tale soft snores of Sherlock falling asleep. John would quickly follow suit,

John grabbed his bag and began packing his essentials, he couldn’t stay in this house without Sherlock; everything was a memory.

He packed quickly and walked to Sherlock’s bedroom, opening the door and looking at the unmade bed which was exactly as the pair had left it when they had got up that morning together. Their passionate love making had lasted longer than normal with Sherlock seemingly teasing out their last moments together, edging them to a spectacular climax together which had left John seeing stars and shaking almost painfully. The pair had then cuddled and kissed for a while in silence before standing up to deal with the day; the lube and tissues which they had used still lay on Sherlock’s bed tauntingly,

John left the bedroom quickly, fleeing out of the flat and slamming the door a final time before taking off in a sprint, faster than he had run in a long time, he ran and ran with no real destination until his chest burnt and he felt sick. He stopped at the side of the canal, his hands resting against the public bench where he bent double and vomited, crying out in pain and anger as his stomach rebelled against him. He finished and wiped his mouth before sitting on the cold and slightly damp wood of the bench, watching the water of the canal going by for hours,

 

##############################

 

_‘I was so alone, and I owe you so much, but, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't... be... dead. Would you, just for me, just stop it? Stop this’_

His speech hitched slightly as he spoke to the block of cold granite. He had never done this before, not with his army friends who died, or his family members… he’d never spent time at their graves talking but he had so much he wanted to say to Sherlock and not enough strength to rant and rave at Sherlock’s fucking stupid decision to step off the ledge. They could have sorted out the problem, or moved away! John could have seen himself being a doctor in a tiny village of cottages with Sherlock consulting from home. They wouldn’t have to come back to London, they could live quietly in the country with Mycrofts help… but Sherlock had to do _this,_

John stood straight, his military training still showing as he turned and walked away from the grave, missing the dark shadow which hid in the copse of trees. He walked away and thought about what he was going to do with his life now Sherlock no longer was in it, his heart broke each time he thought about Sherlock not being there and gradually, after 2 years and a new relationship with Mary, his heart began to heal slowly and he no longer had nightmares of Sherlock’s body thudding to the pavement. He just dreamt of Sherlock’s eyes, his fingers and his curls.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damnit, I wrote another chapter despite promising i wouldn't! So here it is. Not much smut, but i like it. I probably won't do another one but i said that last time... wait and see how bored i get first!
> 
> Not Beta'd. Please leave comments! I love them
> 
> I've also just started my own Tumblr... i have no idea how to use it yet but if people want to go on it the link is http://kittiekatthings.tumblr.com/

Lestrade pulled out his phone a final time, checking the address which was written down before ringing the bell. John answered quickly and with a genuine smile, welcoming Greg into the house and offering him a drink which Greg waived away with thanks.

The men spoke for a while with Greg explaining the reason for his visit, leaving the shoebox on the side and bidding John a cheery farewell, knowing that despite John’s response that he probably wouldn’t watch the dvd; Greg knew he would.

John poured himself a large glass of scotch and settled into the chair by the window, his eyes flitted over the DVD and he turned his eyes away… only for them to traitorously return seconds later. He sighed deeply and inserted the DVD into the player and sat back to watch.

The stupid smiley face which had been painted on the wall was the first thing he noticed, followed by the old fashioned wallpaper which had covered their flat, their _lovenest._ John huffed at that thought before his eyes were drawn to Sherlock coming into the frame. John’s stomach ached and his heart fluttered as Sherlock seemed to look straight into his eyes despite a 2 year gap in space and time. John watched as Sherlock paced and talked, his lips moving yet not actually saying anything of importance… something about how John’s friends all hated the man and his subsequent essay on it. John smiled and shook his head as he heard Lestrade sigh in impatience,

Sherlock paced, his face turned away from the camera as he spoke ‘I need a minute to figure out what I’m going to do’ to which John scoffed and replied ‘I can tell you what you can do- stop being dead’ before taking a deep drink of his scotch, feeling the heated liquid enter his lips and down his throat… he remembered the times when he would take Sherlock in his mouth, licking and sucking him until the man climaxed into his throat to be swallowed in the same route as the Scotch. John forced those thoughts away as Sherlock seemingly answered his statement with an ‘okay’,

Sherlock was in his chair now; the chair which John always saw Sherlock in in his dreams. The blue eyes sparkled in the London light as he told John he would be back with him very soon which left John feeling dejected and depressed once again. The doorbell rang and he stood; pausing the video to answer the door to Mary who smiled widely and happily at the Doctor, kissing his lips and frowning at the taste of Scotch. She looked quizzically at John, checking he was okay before entering the flat and closing the door for another night in together.

###

John had been dreading this moment for a long time, not because he didn’t want to propose and marry Mary; he did. He just wished that she was Sherlock… Or that Sherlock was still here, still around to support and guide the Doctor into the decision to spend the rest of his life with this woman who he wasn’t 100% sure he loved as much as he had once loved the detective. John fiddled with the ring box again, his fingers skimming over the velvet material as he thought about what Sherlock would deduce in the situation; He had momentarily thought about calling Mycroft to ask him instead but he couldn’t face the man. John looked up at the entrance to the restaurant and still found no sign of Mary. The waiter came over and asked John what he wanted but John didn’t really listen, just ordering something or nothing and sending the oddly accented Frenchman on his way. He looked up in time to watch Mary walk down the stairs to the table, his stomach fluttered as he watched; she was very beautiful and graceful. Her feminine body everything he would have wanted in the years before Sherlock but he found himself thinking of bones and angles whenever he fantasised, a lithe pale body with dark curls so different to Mary’s blonde plus the one appendage which Mary could never have. He had fought for so long to convince himself that he wasn’t gay ( _which he still believed! He wasn’t gay, only for Sherlock)_ but he missed Sherlock’s perfectly sized cock and his oral enthusiasm to make John cum. John snapped out of his daydream glad that he was sitting down due to the rush of blood which had immediately filled out his cock. Mary sat down and smiled widely, asking if he was okay which he answered quickly, attempting to spit out the proposal he had intended to make that night…

_Then the world fell apart_

The French waiter had come back, John had looked up and immediately recognised the features of Sherlock regardless of the glasses and pencilled on moustache. John’s mind spun wildly and he struggled to his feet feeling like his leg would collapse beneath him, his breaths coming quickly and deep as he attempted to keep the rage and emotion steady in his voice as he looked at his ex-lover in shock.

The pair spoke for a moment, Sherlock’s mind whirling in confusion at John’s reaction; he wasn't at all excited or happy to see him which is what Sherlock had expected, instead, he looked angrier than Sherlock had ever seen. Sherlock smiled and attempted to joke at John’s moustache which immediately made John go crazy with anger, grabbing the younger man by the collar and pushing him back to the floor; John lay on top of Sherlock attempting to hit the man whilst being dragged away by other patrons of the restaurant. Sherlock’s mind races at the stimulation of John being on top of him again, the scent of John still the same as before the fall. His shampoo smelling spicy yet fresh beneath Sherlock’s nose,

The men were quickly escorted from the restaurant with a warning not to come back; Mary apologised profusely and attempted to drag John away who glared at Sherlock with venom in his gaze much to the shock of Sherlock, gasping as his heart broke slightly. The trio entered a 24 hour café, sitting around talking; surrounded by the smell of chip fat and bleach, John asked questions which Sherlock half-heartedly answered with his mind in turmoil due to the reaction he received to his homecoming. Mary silently sat as a peace keeper between the two but her face cringed in pain as Sherlock said something which upset and angers John again and she watched in horror as John punched Sherlock hard and splits open the pretty pink bottom lip. The trio were quickly kicked out of that establishment and forced to walk to the nearby Kebab shop where they stood awkwardly in line

Two years of bitter resentment and hurt flow from John as he screamed and shouted at Sherlock, unable to keep his voice down any longer at the shitty situation that Sherlock has forced upon him. The sexual tension between the two is almost palpable and even Mary noticed how electric the situation had become as Sherlock dabbed at his bloody lip with a hanky

The comment about John’s moustache was mistimed. Sherlock attempted a joke but John grabbed him and cracks him with a head butt, causing Sherlock’s nose to explode with crimson blood covering his new white shirt. John felt like a common lout being kicked out of a kebab shop after nutting somebody but his anger forced him not to care. He hailed a cab as Mary spoke to Sherlock,following John when he calls to her to get in the warm taxi as they travel home in relative silence; John’s mind in a frenzy.

######

Sherlock walked back into London, entering St Barts quietly he sneaked up on Molly who didn't seem all that happy to see him and then to Greg Lestrade, who shocked Sherlock by giving him a hug, holding him close and softly whispering how happy he is to see him. Sherlock’s body reacts to the close proximity, the most body heat he has shared for a long time which didn’t include horrific torture or abuse… He twisted his lower body away hoping to maintain enough of a space that Greg wouldn't notice but it’s too late. The men pull apart with a cough and blush, each making their excuses before lighting cigarettes in the dark building, the smoke curling above them into the cold London sky

Greg suggested going to the bar, as a way to catch up and reminisce. He’s missed the unusual man and needed him more than he would ever admit, strictly for cases, he tells himself

The two men drink together, talking of recent cases and Sherlock’s travels. Sherlock listens to Greg talk about Anderson and his recent dismissal due to his unhealthy and unceasing interest in Sherlock’s death and Andersons own belief that Sherlock wasn’t really dead. That had amused Sherlock who laughed heartily until a tear ran down his cheek

The men finished their drinks and walked back to Baker Street, their hands in their pockets as they walked and talked carelessly. Sherlock invited Greg inside and offered tea or more drinks which Greg gratefully accepted, watching Sherlock potter around the kitchen

The need and desperation which filled Greg was so different to anything he had ever felt. He walked towards Sherlock and put his large hands on the younger mans hips turning him around until they were face to face

‘I thought… God Sherlock, I thought you were dead. I grieved’ Greg said full of sorrow, his eyes threatening to fill with tears

Sherlock sighed and lowered his head, he hadn’t intended to hurt anybody, especially not those who he had tried to stop Moriarty killing. He bit his lower lip until Greg lifted his chin and pressed his lips softly against Sherlock’s; Sherlock’s eyes opened wide in shock before he closed them again and deepened the kiss, remembering the feel of Johns lips, his kisses. Sherlock swept his tongue around Lestrade’s lager tasting mouth, his hands moving to either side of the older man’s face to hold him close, unable to believe that this is really happening. Greg puts his hands on Sherlock’s arse pulling their hardened cocks against one another as their tongues slip against one another, their sighs and moans being swallowed in the passion. Sherlock lowers his hands to Gregs trousers and begins opening the fly before moving his lips over the skin of Gregs cheek and down his neck and throat, pulling out Greg’s cock Sherlock knelt on the cold floor of the Kitchen before looking up and licking the tip of the already leaking tip of Greg’s cock; Greg gripped the kitchen table tightly as he looks down at the mass of curls which bob with every movement of Sherlock’s head. The smell of Greg is so different to John which makes Sherlock both grateful and melancholy as he slowly slides the first few inches of Gregs average sized cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking deeply. His tongue gliding over the bundle of nerves under the tip which caused Greg to gasp and buck his hips further into Sherlock’s mouth.

Sherlock palmed his own erection through his trousers as he continued bringing Greg closer to climax, his throat opening as much as possible to slip the full length inside his warmth

‘Oh Christ Sherlock’ Lestrade choked as his hips continue their shallow thrusts, one of his hands now coming to rest in Sherlock’s curls

Sherlock used his other hand to stroke and caress the inspectors balls before feeling the older man tense and harden further in his mouth. Sherlock prepared himself for the salty ropes and looked up to maintain eye contact as Greg tipped over the edge with a cry

Sherlock swallowed and cleaned Greg’s cock with his tongue before standing up to tower above Greg. The men stood awkwardly, unsure of proper procedure; Greg ran a hand through his hair as his other tucked his softening prick away

‘Er Sherlock- This probably… I mean…’ Greg stammered

‘Shouldn’t have happened, I know’ Sherlock blushed with a nervous sigh

‘I should… _fuck_ I better go’ Greg said nervously, walking for the door ‘I’ll text you about any new cases’

‘Right’ Sherlock nodded, his fake smile slightly too large and predatory. Greg looked for a moment before walking back and pressing a kiss on Sherlock’s cheek

‘I did miss you’ Greg whispered before turning away and walking quickly out of the door and down the stairs leaving Sherlock alone

Sherlock closed the living room door and slid down the wood until he sat on the floor in a pile, unable to stop the tears which flowed freely down his cheeks. His stomach hurt, his chest burnt and his mind was a frenzy of thoughts and feelings he had never felt before; betrayal, hurt, jealousy, anger but most of all, longing for John

His text tone belled in his pocket and he pulled out his phone looking at the notification

**I told you it wouldn’t be simple brother dear – MH**

Sherlock sobbed harder.

###############

Across London John and Mary sat on the sofa in silence, the TV played in the background but neither of them watched it. John’s mind was full of emotion, of thankfulness and anger at his best friend and ex-lover. He looked over at Mary who smiled and squeezed his hand softly before pulling him to bed; spooning her nakedness into his side as he lay on his back wide awake and unable to close his eyes incase he remembered how Sherlock felt and smelt under him tonight. How his eyes sparkled when John had looked at him, the love and lust which showed itself in both of their eyes as they met burnt a hole in John’s mind and he cried softly to himself.

He sighed and got out of bed, wrapping himself in his dressing gown he walked to the front room and played the ‘many happy returns’ DVD again, remembering how he had asked Sherlock to stop being dead and then he did… John shook his head before lowering it to rest in his hands.

_This was a fucking mess_

 

Sherlock had eventually pulled himself together and stood up from the floor, walking to his bedroom and opening his wardrobe, finding the fake wall he pulled out the small vial and needle before returning to his bed. He undressed to his underwear and lay on the mattress, wishing that he didn’t have to sleep here in the bed he had spent so many happy hours with John. He wrapped the tourniquet around his upper arm and squeezed his hand watching the blue veins pop up to the skin, Sherlock took a deep breath and brought the needle closer to his skin

The sound of the door opening stopped him, footsteps up the stairs caused him to look towards the person approaching and his heartbeat pounded in his ears as he recognised the familiar sound of John. John looked into the bedroom and sighed at the sight of Sherlock half naked, about to give into temptation once again. John walked quicker and held out his hand which caused Sherlock to choke back a sob and place the capped needle into the outstretched palm as the doctor placed the needle out of arms reach before returning to Sherlock and pulling him in for a strong and needy bear hug

‘You’re a complete bastard’ John whispered deeply, his voice tight with emotion

‘I know’ Sherlock admitted, his own tears already falling down his cheeks

The men sat and talked long into the night, crying and shouting, listening and laughing together as they talked about the last 2 years and how much they had missed one another. Sherlock had left out a lot of his torture but it was evident on his once perfect skin, lines of scars trailed down his body which were noticed by John who choked back tears as he stroked his fingers over the silvery cuts

‘why?’ John asked

‘Because Moriarty would kill you, Greg and Mrs Hudson if I didn’t’ Sherlock replied emotionless ‘and I would have rather died than see anything happen to you’

John looked up at the ceiling, feeling the pin pricks behind his eyes again. Sherlock had done a shitty thing but he had done it for a good reason, he had done it for John.

‘I missed you so much… you dick’ John laughed which caused Sherlock to smile too


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell, whenever i say i'm not going to another chapter i end up doing one anyway! Not much smut in this one but its quite sweet i feel. Also the lullaby in it is 'Baby Mine' It was on the Dumbo and Beaches soundtrack. It's quite soppy

When the news broke, Mycroft had taken Sherlock’s call on the second ring and listened to his brother cry on the phone at how upset John was at the revelations of his wife’s lies. Mycroft had sent Mary away and ordered her never to come back to the UK on pain of death. Sherlock thanked his brother sincerely before attempting to help his friend and former lover live again.

Bombs exploded; the smell of burning hair and flesh lingered around John as he ran for cover. The screams of one of his men, the stench of blood and gore in the heat of the warzone and then silence, the world quieted as Mary walked up to him, her blonde hair hidden under the black wool hat _How can she wear a hat in this heat? She must be boiling_ then she’s upon him, her fingers stroking his filthy, grime covered face softly before the gunshot echoed around the desert. The pain was sharp but it wasn’t the ripping flesh of the bullet which hurt, it was the devastation and the rejection of his wife lying to him. The love, their life, their wedding and especially their child was all a lie,

######

John awoke with a loud scream, his cries carrying through the flat and into the London night beyond. Sherlock had ran to the doctors bedroom and burst through the door, gathering the older man in his embrace and holding him until the tears and cries died down, replaced with sniffles and whimpers. Sherlock rested his chin on John’s damp, ruffled hair and shushed him, humming the soft lullaby his mother used to use whenever he had a nightmare as a child; John relaxed into the familiar embrace and allowed himself to calm, listening to Sherlock’s deep hum and attempting to calm his breathing from the edge of a panic attack. Sherlock held _his_ John tightly, repeating the lullaby until John had stopped crying but continued to shake violently in the younger man’s arms; Sherlock brought the pair closer to the head of the bed and helped John to lay under the covers, lying on his back and allowing John to cuddle against his shoulder softly as the two men lay in comfortable silence

‘What was that song you were humming?’ John asked

‘What? – Oh the song? Just something mummy used to sing when we were little. It’s called baby mine… hence why my hilarious brother calls me brother mine’ Sherlock smiled dryly,

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry’ John whispered

‘Don’t be’ Sherlock replied honestly, his arm tightening around Johns shoulder protectively

‘I don’t think I’ll sleep again tonight’ John said looking out of the blinds into the still dark London sky

‘Then lets just stay here, together’ Sherlock soothed, his head dipping to kiss John’s head softly

########

The nightmares continued, not on a nightly basis, but often enough that John was constantly tired and irritable about sleeping. He didn’t want to close his eyes incase she came back to him, the woman he had loved whilst Sherlock was dead, the woman who had allowed him to fall in love and _trust_ another person again after Sherlock, had lied to him in a worse way than Sherlock. At least the detective had a good reason and good excuse for his behaviour, she didn’t. John tried to hide his tears from Sherlock who had no empathy or understanding of how to help his friend; the best the sociopath could do was make tea and hope John asked for biscuits

The doctor stormed into the kitchen with venom in his eyes as he threw a bottle of shampoo at Sherlock’s experimenting form making Sherlock jump at the bang of the plastic hitting the microwave with a loud clang

‘Why the fuck didn’t you replace the shampoo when you used it? Is that too much to ask! Sherlock fucking Holmes the fucking genius but he can’t replace a simple bottle of shampoo eh?’ John shouted, his fists clenched as his face turned flushed

Sherlock lowered his head and took the tirade, refusing to fight back or argue any point of John’s anger

‘Nothing to say eh? That’s a first! You’re a cock’ John said before storming out of the flat to go to work leaving the younger man shaking and upset at the kitchen table

John let himself back into the flat after his shift, his mood had improved slightly and he had brought in Sherlock’s favourite chocolate snacks for their evening together on the sofa. He walked up the stairs and noticed the Sherlock-free space; he wandered through the kitchen and noticed the newly purchased bottle of Shampoo resting on the table along with a note in Sherlock’s spiky hand

**‘You’re right’ – SH**

John lowered his head and groaned, calling Mycroft from his mobile and asking the elder Holmes if he had heard from Sherlock. Mycroft had sighed and informed John that Sherlock had been upset and left the flat where Mrs Hudson had immediately called Greg who called Mycroft. Sherlock was down at the Yard going through cold cases to take his mind off the urge to shoot up, Mycroft was curt with John, explaining in no hidden terms that John was taking out his anger on the one person who didn’t deserve it and that if Sherlock was driven away and back to his old habits, then Mycroft would only blame one person; John himself

John agreed and sighed deeply, apologising and sitting in his chair to formulate a plan to win back Sherlock’s affection. He made himself a cup of tea and seated himself back down with a medical journal he had wanted to read but being unable to concentrate. He heard Sherlock enter the flat around midnight and shouted his greetings to the detective who wearily entered the living room, looking tired and pale.

‘Tea?’ John asked with a smile before hopping up to pop the kettle on

The men sat inches away from one another, talking and crying throughout the night as they cleared the air. Unsaid issues finally releasing themselves along with the tension until the pair sat happily in one anothers company; glad of the closeness.

‘Do you think she ever loved me?’ John asked quietly, unaware the words had left his lips

Sherlock pursed his lips; his fingers steepled under his chin as he looked over at John’s red and tear swollen eyes

‘The first time I met her, I saw she was an only child, liberal, bread making, happy and warm person who loved life, loved animals but most of all… loved you’ Sherlock said honestly, his gaze focussing on John’s eyes

‘You didn’t see the murderous, lying and vicious cunt undertones though’ John replied, his fingers gripping the mug tightly

‘That’s because I was too focussed on how much my heart hurt when I saw how you looked at her… the way you used to look at me’ Sherlock admitted with a blush ‘I saw that she made you happy, and you made her happy and I stopped deducing’

John’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at the genuine pain in Sherlock’s features. The doctor lowered his eyes and held onto Sherlock’s hand tightly, their fingers entwining just like they had always done when they were lovers

‘Lets go to bed’

###########

Neither man wanted to rush back into an intimate relationship, the strain and pressure was higher now because of the time apart and the situation they were in. Both men walked to Sherlock’s bedroom, curling around one another on the sumptuous bed as they kissed lazily, their hands rubbing and stroking across the skin which was so different to how they remembered. John’s had grown thinner through lack of eating and proper care whilst Sherlock’s once perfect skill was mottled with silvery scars which bumped against John’s fingertips. John couldn’t bring himself to stroke the one wound which had threatened to take Sherlock away from him, the bullet hole from Mary’s gun which had momentarily killed his best friend as he flat lined in the hospital. Sherlock noticed but didn’t draw attention to it, instead he brought his friend in for another deep and passionate kiss, the need and longing breaking into an emotional whirlwind of a kiss, teeth and tongue sloppily meeting as tears dripped down their cheeks.

The two men rested their foreheads against one another, happy smiles crossing their lips as the tears continued to flow before the pair cuddled happily against one another; falling asleep arm in arm, their legs entwined in the sheets.

The following morning John awoke to two bright blue eyes staring at him making him jump momentarily before giggling ‘Jesus Sherlock. Scared the shit out of me. It’s like looking at an owl’

Sherlock smiled and ran his hand down the curve of John’s hip, his hand resting on the hipbone

‘Do you need to pee yet?’ Sherlock asked

‘Yes, don’t you?’ John replied watching Sherlock shake his head and explain he’d been. John went to sort out his bodily needs before returning to bed and lying beside Sherlock, pressing his cold toes against Sherlock’s calves making the younger man yelp

The two men relaxed against one another and realised that they were becoming aroused, the lack of any sexual contact causing their blossoming erections to rut against one another. Sherlock wrapped his hand around John’s cock causing the older man to tilt his hips for the glorious friction of Sherlock’s violin callused fingers. When both men were achingly hard, Sherlock wrapped his hand around both, his thumb resting over his underside as he stroked their cocks together slowly, teasing John until the doctor was grinding his hips into Sherlock’s hand, begging for a tighter grip or faster thrusts.

Sherlock moved to straddle John’s nakedness, his hips resting on John’s thighs as he picked up where he left off in a more comfortable position. He could see John’s eyes fluttering closed with the blissful sensations rushing through his nerves and Sherlock groaned low at the touch of John’s cock to his. He whimpered a warning that he was close, thrusting his hips into his fist and against the frenulum of John’s own cock before throwing his head back and groaning loudly as shot after shot of creamy cum covered Johns cock, stomach and chest in thick strands. The view of Sherlock crashing over the edge was too much for John who followed quickly with his own orgasm, adding his cum to Sherlock’s on his chest and stomach

The men panted for a while, their hips jerking with aftershocks as their orgasm relaxed their tired and tense bodies. Sherlock leaned forward and kissed John tenderly, before moving to lay beside his friend

‘I love you’ Sherlock mumbled, looking up at the ceiling

‘I love you too’ John replied, lacing his fingers into Sherlock’s.


End file.
